'You don't understand,' said Georgie. 'It was all much more accidental than it seems. I just said that to Honor Klein on the spur of the moment, about wanting to meet your brother. Then I forgot about it and I was quite surprised when she rang me up and suggested this.'
'You ought not to have gone,' I said. 'Oh well, it doesn't matter.' I sat down on Georgie's bed. I felt sunk in misery and confusion.
'It does matter,' said Georgie. 'Martin, I'm miles nearer the edge than you've got any notion of. I can't tell you how much I've suffered not only from the lies but from feeling so paralysed. I had to do something of my own. I feel twice as real now. I was just stopping being free. And for me that's stopping existing. I was getting to be no good to either myself or to you. You've got to see me, Martin. I'm to blame. I've never been quite and entirely myself with you. The situation didn't let me be. The untruthfulness infected everything. I must break out a little. Do you see at all?'
'Yes, yes, yes,' I said. 'It doesn't matter.'
'Don't keep saying that,' said Georgie, 'and stop looking so bloody dejected, for Christ's sake.'
'Anyway,' I said, 'the era of lies is over. We'll tell everybody now.'
Georgie was silent. I looked up at her. She looked at me strangely, her face, still marked with tears, poised and withdrawn, beautiful in a new way, and older.
I said, 'You don't want it told now?'
'I'm not sure,' she said.
'Will you marry me, Georgie?' I said.
She turned away and drew in a sharp breath like a cry. After a moment she said, 'You don't mean it, Martin. You're just a little crazy at the moment and jealous. Ask me again later if you still want to.'
'I love you, Georgie,' I said.
'Ah, that.' She gave a dry laugh.
'Oh Christ,' I said, and buried my face in my hands. I felt Georgie's arm about my shoulder. We rolled back on to the bed and I took her in my arms. We lay quiet for a while.
Georgie said, 'Martin. You said you used to pass your girls on to Alexander. Are you sure it wasn't that he always took them away from you?'
'Yes,' I said, 'that was how it was, in fact.'
'Martin, I love you so much,' said Georgie.
I buried my head in her shoulder and groaned.
Fifteen
I was back again at the door at Pelham Crescent. I was also drunk. It was late and the fog was gathering again. It struck me, as I handled the heavy crate of wine, that I was shuttling to and fro with an increased speed between the various poles of my situation and was indeed by now all over the place. I got the door open and got the wine through into the hall. I simply had to come back.
I had found myself unable to make love to Georgie. I had stayed with her too long, drunk too much, and ended up abjectly in tears. I left her with relief, and I think she felt relief too at my going. We did not speak seriously again, but treated each other with great gentleness, like a pair of invalids.
Now it was essential for me to see Palmer and Antonia. It was after eleven o'clock, but the crate of wine which I had promised to bring served as an excuse. I assumed that I would find them up. I knocked on the drawing-room door and looked inside. The room was dark except for the subdued glowing fire. Then I heard Palmer's voice calling from upstairs, 'Who is it?'
'It's Martin,' I said. My voice sounded hollow, like someone talking in a cavern. I added, 'I've brought the wine.'
Antonia's voice said, 'Come and see us.'
I said, 'Have you gone to bed? I'm sorry to come so late.'
'It's not late,' said Palmer's voice. 'Come on up. Look, bring three glasses and one of the bottles. We simply must see you.'
I found three glasses and took a bottle of the Chateau Lauriol and began to mount the stairs. I had never been upstairs in Palmer's house before.
'We're here,' said Antonia's voice. A stream of golden light showed the open door. I paused in the doorway.
An enormous double bed faced the door, its white headboard festooned with trails of gilded roses. The snow-white sheets were parted. A pair of lamps, mounted on tall carved ecclesiastical candlesticks, also gilt, shed a soft radiance from either side. There was a scattering of rosy Persian rugs upon the white Indian carpet. I stepped in.
Palmer was sitting on the side of the bed. He was wearing a cream-coloured embroidered robe of Chinese silk and, it was evident, nothing underneath. Antonia was standing beside him well wrapped in her familiar cherry- red Jaeger dressing-gown. I closed the door.
'How very sweet of you to bring the wine!' said Antonia. 'Are you all right?'
'I'm fine,' I said.
'Let's have some straight away!' said Palmer. 'I love a dormitory feast. I'm so glad you've come. I've been looking forward to you all the evening. Oh dear, there's no corkscrew! Do you mind fetching one, Martin?'
'I always carry one,' I said. I unfolded it and opened the bottle.
'I'm afraid we're offending all your canons!' said Palmer. 'Do you mind drinking it cold? Do pour out three glasses and then put the bottle by the fire.'
I set the glasses upon a little table of pink marble beside the door and poured them out. I set the bottle down carefully beside the electric fire which was set low down in the wall. The muted yellow pattern in the satin wallpaper flickered in my eyes. I returned to the glasses.
Antonia got on to the bed and knelt her way across on to the other side, supporting herself on Palmer's shoulder. She sat there, curling her softly slippered feet under her, well enveloped in the glowing red gown. Her hair, which had been contained in the lifted collar, spread now a little on to her shoulders in flat heavy coils of faded gold. Without make-up she looked older, paler, but her face was tender, alive, maternal, as she kept her tawny eyes upon me, her big working mouth half smiling, posed and attentive. Palmer opposite to her was calm, relaxed, formidably clean, looking in his embroidered robe, with his small neat head, like some casual yet powerful emperor upon a Byzantine mosaic. One long leg, slim and very white, scattered with long black hairs, crossed over the other, was revealed by a slit in the silk. His feet were bare.
I said, 'Ares and Aphrodite.'
'But you are not Hephaistos, are you, Martin?' said Palmer.
I advanced and gave them the wine, first to Palmer and then to Antonia. I said, 'I can hardly get higher than this.'
'You are very high indeed,' said Palmer, 'and we love you for it. This constitutes an apex.'
'That suggests a descent on the other side,' I said.
'Let us call it a plateau,' said Antonia. 'People live on plateaus.'
'Only people with a good head for heights,' I said. I raised my glass to them and drank the wine. It was cold and tasted bitter. I was troubled by Palmer's naked body under the silk robe.
'Antonia told me of your talk,' said Palmer. 'I felt quite jealous at being left out, but I simply had to see patients this morning. I think you are being very wise. A complete holiday, a complete rest, that is what you need. Have you decided where you are going?'
'I've changed my mind,' I said. 'I don't think I'm going away after all.'
Palmer and Antonia exchanged glances. Antonia said in her softest voice, 'Darling, I do think you should go. Believe me, believe us, it is what is best for you.'
'Isn't it odd,' I said. 'Here I am bringing you wine in bed. Instead of which I ought to be killing both of you.'
'Martin darling, you're drunk,' said Antonia. 'Shall I order you a taxi to go home in?'
